Masochist of Decadence
by Morbid Romantic
Summary: Subaru needs just a little violence to remind him who he belongs to, and that's just what he wants.


TITLE: Masochist of Decadence BY: Morbid Romantic )  
SPOILERS: Tokyo Babylon & X/1999 DESCRIPTION: Poor Subaru is so easy to come undone.  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters, though I really, really wish that I could make Seishirou mine. This one is kind of sexual, but it's nto at all graphic.

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There's so much blood.

The pain won't go away unless I bleed just a little bit more.

I would rather bleed than cry; the tears hurts more than a body covered in wounds and bruises. I cry when you turn your back, I bleed whenever you are near to me.

Yes, the closer you are, the more I bleed. The more I bleed, the closer you want to be to me.

All for you. For no one but you.

Pain is sharp, immediate, and intense. I give fading whimpers of agony, but they die down as a thick calm envelopes me; and it's so hazy in my thoughts now. Even my body feel dreamlike, as if i've been stuffed in places with clouds and heavy, warm liquid. This calm is elicited by the motions and steady force of your violence; the violence that brings me to the very point of wanting no other escape but death, though I know you will not grant me the fulfillment of that wish.

I think that I can hear myself crying too, but I never want you to stop. You know this. The noise is grotesque to my ears. My weakness is ugly and mutated by the surge of excitement pooled in the bottom of my stomach. You know this. You know everything about me. I am your prey.

My eyes close against your hungry stare, the gaze that demands my pain. It's yours, why make me aknowledge it? Leave me with something other than scars. I want my pride.

But what pride is there in this? We're trapped in an endless whirlwind, only able to touch briefly before the wind pulls us apart.

Your hand, constructed of surprisingly soft, warm skin pulls roughly at my face. Cupped beneath my jaw, you jerk my head up, trying to force me to open my eyes and look into yours. I can't. I'm scared to open my eyes. Face to face with a preditor, but I am not afraid of that. I am afraid you will see the desperation in me, and then I will be naked... vulnerable. You will know how much I love this; how much I need this.

I exist. Let me show you in blood.

Love me, even if you love only the way that I bleed for you.

Peeling me away every squirming, struggling layer by layer. Every stitch of me pops undone, lose, with a sigh of pleasure. Excitement and euphoria, rising with my adrenaline, is so easily masked by the flash of exquisite, bright, blinding pain. Muscles lock and teeth clench. More. Never stop. I want to feel this forever. Just for you, from you.

Is that your laughter? Am I that obvious?

Do you hate my weakness, is that why you want to hurt me? Or does my weakness feed your hunger, and you return it the only way that you know how?

I don't care, just as long as I bleed a little bit more.

You must want me. I can feel it in the way your hands run over my flesh and clothing, possessing me, exploring every inch of a body that belongs - has always belonged - to only you. I would have given it all to you anyway, you didn't have to make it this way. But you did, and that's okay. As long as I have something, I'll never be empty.

Make me mean something.

This pain is bliss. As it peaks and collapses every one of my senses, I can forget the tumult that rages inside of my heart and mind. Emotional pain can't exist in the face of this raptuous sensation, and every hurt spikes and rolls over me in endless waves of agony beyond what the human body should be able to take. But I need this to live, and you know it, just as you need it and me.

Don't deny it, I see it in the way you watch me. So much intensity when you look at me, yet at all other times you stare about youself, at the world, in unbroken boredom. But you've kept me around. I thought for so long that you didn't kill me because I wasn't worth it.

I know your secret now. I know why I am still alive, and why these marks in my hands burn with constant heat. You watch my every move. 

Do you know my next step before I do, Seishirou? I bet you do, you've studied your prey for so long. How much of your life is spent watching me from a distance? How many times am I unaware that you walk but steps behind me, oblivious to the world outside of my immediate space? 

That's your secret. You can't kill me because you need me. And just as I can't let you go, you can't either.

I've come to realize also that you only hurt me when I ask you to. Like now. But even your violence is gentle. Soothing. It's always been that way, you never lose control.

Does my self-loathing excite you? Would you tell me if I asked?

Being with you, I've come to realize that pleasure is pain and pain is pleasure. And I will give the both of them to you until you decide that I am nothing to you and you kill me. I don't mind the wait, either, because I love the way you make me bleed. 


End file.
